Better the Instruction
by Pouncer
Summary: Had you began practicing when you were young, Teyla told Sheppard, you would possess near mastery of the form. Incidental het. Written fall 2006.


**Better the Instruction**

By Pouncer

"You should go." Halling's face was irritatingly earnest as he pled his case.

"I no longer have a reason to go," Teyla reminded him. "My formal training is done."

"But your age mates," Halling protested.

"Nonsense," Teyla said. The future was what was important – the battle against the Wraith – not those she hadn't seen in years.

She went to gear up for her team's next mission.

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The planet was in the midst of a bountiful autumn, grain ripening in untended fields.

Sheppard and McKay bantered over one of their television programs, one Teyla had not been forced to view. She'd heard enough to doubt she would enjoy it.

"Oh, come _on_," McKay said. "He was a vampire – what does a soul matter next to that?"

"He loved Buffy," Sheppard replied, as if it settled everything.

"Fat lot of good it did her," McKay muttered. "Giles was the real hero of that show, forced to ride herd on a bunch of teenagers who were expected to save the world." McKay examined his Ancient PDA for a few seconds, snorted, "Teenagers," and then stalked after faint energy traces.

Sheppard raised his eyebrows and exchanged a look with Ronon and Teyla.

"I guess we go that way," he said, and wandered off.

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There had been an Ancient presence on this world once, and families after.

Teyla looked around the rotting homestead and sighed. The sight was too well known these days with the Wraith so active.

"Lots of children," Ronon observed, picking up a battered doll.

"Yes," Teyla said. She could see the way it must have been: a mother and father working the fields together, children assigned to chores, laughter and play and then screams of terror as Wraith darts appeared overhead.

"They had power at one point," McKay reported. "For the well." He waved his hand vaguely in the direction of the ancillary buildings.

Sheppard knelt down and sorted through items on a lower shelf. "Books," he said, holding one up, and Teyla recognized the bright images on its pages.

She reached out and stroked the rough surface. "They are primers," she said, startled to hear how wistful she sounded. "To teach children the history of the Ancestors."

Sheppard stood. "Right." He put the book down. "Is there anything here worth exploring?"

Heads shook negative all around, and her team walked outside. Teyla took one more look around the empty rooms, and her hands reached out, independent and willful, to stuff the book into her pack before she followed them into the warm sunlight.

Living in Atlantis had made her realize the tales told children were bright ideals, not truth, but Teyla remembered her mother's voice reading similar pages, turning them with fingers that smoothed back her hair just before she fell asleep.

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They made their way back to the stargate, mostly silent.

Something in the set of Ronon's shoulders told Teyla that he was thinking on what they had seen. She suspected he wished he had been here, wished he could have fought to protect this lost family and killed the Wraith who fed on them.

"I hope it was quick," Ronon said at last.

She didn't say anything, but Teyla agreed.

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The next day, Teyla met Sheppard for their regular bout of practice fighting. He'd improved over the past two years, but she still beat him nine times out of ten.

Wood clacked against wood, and Teyla found that calm, clear place where nothing existed but subtle cues and the beauty of muscles following patterns long ingrained.

Sheppard surprised her, knocked one of the sticks out her right hand, and crowed with triumph.

"Had you begun practicing when you were young," she told him, "you would possess near mastery of the form."

He smiled at her, and all Teyla could see was Matyar's face as she demonstrated the sequence of moves. She had towered over Teyla, who had been so young she could barely wrap her hands around the sticks she'd finally been allowed to pick up after days of lecture on the principles behind the forms.

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They went to the mess hall together for lunch, after, and met McKay and Ronon and Dr. Weir once they'd filled their trays.

Weir looked like she had a headache from mediating the running battle between the anthropologists and the botanists, each determined to get the most time off-world. McKay chattered about his latest research project, some sort of attempt to plumb the mysteries of ZPMs. Sheppard leaned back in his chair with a lazy grin and offered news of new Marine arrivals. Ronon ate with focus and concentration.

Teyla took a bite of her salad, listening absently as Weir and Sheppard began to prioritize reports that needed to be sent back to Earth with the next databurst.

"When is our next mission?" Teyla didn't mean to be rude but she'd wanted to ask the question since the morning staff meeting had proved uninformative. The time had never felt right to bring up such a personal request, and probably never would, so why not ask now?

Sheppard blinked, and finished chewing his tava beans. He exchanged a glance with Weir before answering. "Five days? Maybe seven, if I can't get this quarter's fitreps done before the training exercise."

"Mmmmm," Teyla hummed, considering. "I shall have time, then."

Dr. Weir quirked a brow, curious. "Time for what?"

"To visit Ledrill, where I was fostered," Teyla replied.

McKay asked, "Fostered?" as if he'd never heard of the practice.

"We didn't do it on Sateda," Ronon said, looking up, "but it's common elsewhere."

"My foster sibs are holding a gathering," Teyla said. "They are valued trade partners and Halling saw them at the Zedrek market several days ago." Teyla sipped at her tea. "I have not seen them in many years, since I was recalled to Athos after a Wraith raid. We needed every set of hands that winter." It had been a cold one, and the reduced population hadn't been easy to feed with so many crops languishing for lack of harvesters.

"A reunion?" Sheppard's smile grew broader. "I remember when my mom's sister held one. The barbeque was one of the best things I've ever eaten."

"Memphis or Carolina?" McKay asked, diverted by the thought of food, as always.

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A large bonfire lit the clearing and the dancers with its flickering glow. Teyla twirled, relishing how the fabric of her skirt wrapped around her legs. The patterns of this dance were intricate; drummers beat out complex rhythms while flutes piped high, long trills.

Step, step, spin. Catch the hand of another dancer, whose face hid in shadow. Teyla linked elbows with her partner, spun with their bodies' weight providing counterbalance, tipped her head back and laughed.

Release and turn, as the drums beat faster and faster. Teyla felt the vibrations down to her very bones, doubled with the stomp of her bare feet on the hard-packed earth. In the spring, she danced at dawn to secure the blessing of the Ancestors upon the newly-plowed fields. Then, her bare feet sunk into freshly turned dirt as her people's chanting filled the air. She was always aware that it was a sacred rite, and concentrated on making each step perfection.

Tonight's dance was for pleasure, and all the more treasured for it.

A note, high-pitched and plaintive and held seemingly forever, one final great crash of the drums in unison, and Teyla paused with the crowd, suspended in anticipation. Then there was silence and quick breathing until Mensril yipped and called, "Now for the _tramind_!"

Everyone laughed at his folly, and Teyla felt the grin spread across her face, wide and happy.

It was good that she had come. She would have to remember to thank Halling, and hope that his gloating would subside before she wanted to smack him.

She made her way over to the long board, surveyed the feast offerings and decided she was not hungry yet. She dipped a cup of wine from the copper vat at the end of the table instead. The spices made her mouth tingle as she drank it down in one draught.

An arm wrapped around her waist, warm and comforting, and Matyar said, "My heart grows full a-bursting to see you so joyous, Teyla." A kiss pressed against Teyla's forehead and she let herself lean into Matyar's bulk, glad of the touch.

"How could I be anything but joyous, among such friends?" Teyla replied, and Matyar laughed.

"Oh, you have learned diplomacy well, just like your father wanted. I remember when he sent you to us, and you cried to see him and your mother return to Athos."

Teyla remembered too, how she had hated to watch them travel back through the Ring of the Ancestors, and had sulked for days until Matyar had given her a stern talking to, heavy on duty and the need to fulfill her parents wishes. And then Matyar had dragged Teyla to the dining hall and made her sit with her age mates and soon enough she'd found herself laughing and telling them about Athosian customs.

Matyar must have been thinking back as well, for she said, "Getting all you young ones to concentrate on your lessons was almost more than I could handle, you know."

Teyla squeezed Matyar closer, breathed in her scent and relaxed even further. "We were," and here Teyla paused to choose the right word, "energetic." She could feel her lips twist up, and glanced at Matyar, feeling full of mischief.

"You were scamps, Teyla, all of you, and turned my hair grey early!"

Matyar handed over another cup of wine, and Teyla sipped, savoring the taste. "That was because you had the gift of allowing us to be children while still teaching us the skills we needed to survive."

They had drilled in fighting and trading and judgment of goods in the mornings, studied the history of the Ancestors and worlds of Pegasus in the afternoon, and played through the evenings. Teyla had hated to leave her friends a year later, when recalled to Athos.

That her mother would never greet her again with the most beautiful smile in the galaxy had made her return all the more bitter. She'd shed juvenile ways like a second skin when she walked through the Ring of the Ancestors to find her father's grief-ravaged face on the other side.

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The bonfire had burned down to glowing coals, and Teyla sat amid her age mates, trying not to see the faces that were no longer with them. The Wraith had no place at this celebration.

Mensril, who had always nipped at their heels as a child, was still pursuing his elders. He had brought Teyla a plate piled high with delicacies, and complimented her dancing.

She did not tell him that she had noticed his flair around the fire, the way his muscles stood out on the final round of the dance.

Another cup of wine appeared at her hand, and Teyla cast Mensril an arch glance. "Are you trying to cloud my reason?" She made sure her voice held only teasing.

"Would I have to?" Mensril asked, and Teyla considered.

Their hands had brushed as they ate, with a tingle that had delighted her.

"No," she finally replied. "I don't believe you would." She held his eyes, and let herself answer the question he hadn't asked yet.

The expression on his face was everything she could have hoped for, and the touch of his hand on her upper arm made her inhale, sharply.

They said their good nights and walked into the dark together.

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Suited up for their next mission – retrieving sensor buoys emplaced months ago to track Genii movement of nuclear material – Teyla felt the looseness of her muscles, the ease on her face.

"Did you have a good time?" Sheppard asked.

"Oh, yes," Teyla said. "If you could have seen how the little ones had grown! I believe the youngest son could challenge Ronon now."

"Nonsense," McKay huffed, then fell silent at Teyla's smile, well-pleased and wry.

"You would be surprised," she said, and let the purr creep into her voice.

She would have to visit Ledrill again soon, and remember the days when her sole responsibility was to learn all that she could. Decisions, fighting, worry – those needed to be left behind for a time, else all joy be leached from her life in favor of duty.

They pestered her throughout the mission, fishing for details and growing ever more whiny as she denied them, her only answer laughter, and a description of the feast to taunt McKay.

- end -

_Notes:_ For Akire, who requested a high school reunion lo these many months ago. I hope this was worth the wait. Title from _The Merchant of Venice_. My thanks to Rivier for looking at the first draft, and to Carolyn Claire for her beta efforts.

_Disclaimer:_ The characters and situations of _Stargate: Atlantis_ do not belong to me, alas. This story was written for love, not profit.

_Feedback, positive or negative, always welcome, as are all other comments._


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